Definitely Not Protocol
by felceris
Summary: If he were the romantic sort, Grant would say in that moment he looked clear into Jemma's soul. Or rather he would think it, and not tell her. If Jemma were the romantic sort, which she wasn't, she would point to that moment as when she felt alive for the first time in her life. But she most certainly would not let him know. SimmonsxWard. Rated for future chapters.
1. I Can't Get No Satisfaction

a/n: Hello! Thanks for reading. This is my first time writing fanfiction, but I love this ship too much not to write something for them. I hope you enjoy it! Big thanks so much to Amanda and Stone for beta-ing this! I really appreciate your help!

This chapter is takes place about a month before S01E01, and is set in NYC

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**I Can't Get No Satisfaction**

The bar was dimly lit and not especially busy, perfect for blending in, which is exactly how Grant liked it. He had just come off a clusterfuck of a mission and wanted nothing more than to be left alone with a glass of whiskey, neat, and his thoughts.

His seat in the far corner of the room offered Grant a clear view of the bar. There were a few couples scattered throughout and a small stage in the front of the room. While Grant considered himself an excellent singer (he excelled at everything, actually), he wasn't particularly fond of karaoke. He did however enjoy listening to live music, if the singer was efficient. The two girls singing Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" though, most certainly were not. _Another good song ruined by overzealous coeds_, Grant thought to himself. As the girls finished, another walked up to the stage. She looked quite young.

_Almost too young to even be in the bar in the first place, _Grant thought.

"Wonderful," he grumbled quietly, "What now?"

Grant couldn't help but take her in though; it's what he does. Lesson one: always be aware of your surroundings. Notice _everything_. And notice he did. She was on the shorter side, 5'3" he would wager, and slender. She was still mostly hidden in the shadows, but he could tell her hair was on the lighter side of brown, with eyes to match. She looked completely average, but Grant didn't think that was the case. Her eyes were alight with laughter as she smiled into the crowd shyly. She had a wide, full mouth, and _good lord_, Grant wondered, how long had it been since he'd gotten laid?

Soft, vaguely familiar sounding music drifted across the room, but Grant was beyond caring what song she was about to ruin. He was too busy _noticing_ everything about her. The way her hair curled softly around her face and tumbled down her back. Her straight, almost aristocratic nose, and that completely fucking luscious mouth. Who knew Grant Ward was so fucking poetic, practically salivating over some random girl, in a bar no less, like a lovesick sap. And he hadn't even spoken to her yet.

_Yet?_ Grant asked himself. But who was he kidding? He_ would_ talk to her. Grant wanted her, and Grant Ward _always_ got what he wanted.

Her voice was soft and seemed to carry hints of an accent. English, he'd guess.

"I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction…" _Fuck_. She was singing The Stones. Grant Ward, champion of the practical, follower of protocol, was practically ready to propose to this perfect, bordering on obscene, specimen of womanhood; all because she was singing the_ damn_ Rolling Stones, with that fuckable mouth of hers. But really, how long had it been since he had gotten laid? _Too damn long,_ Grant decided.

"'Cause I try, and I try and I try. I can't get no, I can't get no," she continued softly. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, and Grant wanted to pull her off the stage and fuck her right then. He really needed to get laid.

##

Jemma Simmons was terrified. It was her last night in America before returning to London and her still fairly unbelievable career in the research division of S.H.I.E.L.D. Jemma had come to New York on a brief sabbatical, before immersing herself in what she had only been told will be a "long term project" for herself and her partner, Leo Fitz.

Jemma wasn't a particularly adventurous person, which is why she found herself standing on stage singing. Yes, Jemma Simmons, singing in front of an actual audience. Her friend Darcy had suggested Jemma live a little before once again becoming consumed by work. Actually, Darcy's exact words had been, "It's about time you lost your v-card, before you're as dried up as my Aunt Ethel."

She didn't know Darcy's Aunt Ethel, but she certainly did not want to one day realize that she had never really lived. And it didn't hurt that Darcy hadn't had a "v-card" in several years. Jemma Simmons was actually quite competitive, you see, and really did not like knowing that Darcy had accomplished something Jemma had not. So here she was, _living_ a little, on a stage in a dark bar in New York City, on a mission to let loose for one single night in her entirely proper existence.

"When I'm drivin' in my car, and the man comes on the radio. He's tellin' me more and more, about some useless information. Supposed to fire my imagination."

Jemma noticed the man in the rear corner of the room. He wasn't looking like that at _her_, was he? It wasn't that Jemma had any sort of self-esteem issues, but she knew perfectly well that she was superior in all but the physical. She had come to accept that, in that category, she was only average. But the man in the corner looked like he was positively ready to devour her. A curious feeling filled Jemma's body, and gave her a sort of confidence that she hadn't felt only a moment before.

She stood a bit straighter, head a little higher and smiled at the man watching her.

"I can't get no, oh no, no no. Hey hey hey, that's what I say. I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction".

Yes, she was sure now that the man was indeed watching her, and it thrilled her. There were some beautiful women in the bar, but he was watching her as if none of them existed. As Jemma finished her song, she took the opportunity to watch the man watching her. He was mostly in the shadows, but she could make out broad shoulders under a leather jacket, and an intense, hard look on his face. He was positively beautiful, Jemma thought, and she wondered if the others could feel the tension between them. She let her eyes roam across the few remaining patrons, but it seemed as if only Jemma felt the electricity in the air.

As her song finished, Jemma's eyes once again returned to the man in the corner. She felt wonderfully, amazingly, glorious, and she decided in that moment to just let go, and go for it. _To go for him_. She gathered her courage and walked towards him.

"Can I buy you a drink?" she asked, smiling slightly, still nervous.

"I think that's my line," he said. His voice was hard, but not unkind, and it sent shivers down Jemma's spine.

"You were a little slow in asking, so I suppose it's mine now," she replied, sounding more confident than she actually felt.

"Fair enough," he said as he rose from his seat. _Oh boy, _Jemma thought, he practically towered over her. He stepped closer towards her, and Jemma had to consciously remind herself not to take a step in retreat.

"Whom do I have the pleasure of drinking with tonight?" he asked.

Jemma thought quickly, as she was wont to do, and decided giving her complete name wasn't the best course of action, "Call me Jewel, and you?"

"Jewel, pretty name," Grant noted aloud, instinctively knowing she was keeping her real name to herself. She didn't have much of a poker face, after all. "You can call me Ward,"

"I'll take that drink now, if you don't mind," Jemma responded. Her confidence was wavering, and she could use some liquid courage. She felt suffocated by the thickness of the air, the minute distance between them. He was so…_large, _Jemma thought.

"Or you're just short," Grant said, chuckling lightly. Had she said that out loud? Jemma could feel her face flush, and ducked her eyes. Grant could see that his Jewel was a bit skittish, but she raised her head and their eyes locked once more. The spark ignited between them.

If he were the romantic sort (he secretly was), Grant would say in that moment he looked clear into her soul.

If Jemma were the romantic sort (she wasn't), she would point to that moment as when she felt alive for the first time in her life.

"C'mon. Let's get out of here," Grant said softly.

Jemma was a confused for the briefest of moments, before understanding his meaning. _Oh dear,_ Jemma thought. She was definitely in over her head.

"A drink would be nice, but I think we both want something a bit stronger than nice," he said, and he closed the distance between them. His hands touched her first, whispering across her hips. But when his lips glided across her own, slowly at first, Jemma was undone. She gasped at the incredible feeling welling up in her chest.

Grant took that opportunity to skim his tongue across her lower lip and into her mouth. Grant had kissed his share of women, but never one quite like his little gem. She tasted so fresh and eager, and if he didn't know better, Grant would suggest she _hadn't_ had a fair share of kisses. But that thought quickly left his mind, because holy fuck she was sliding her tongue along his and making mewling sounds, fucking mewling sounds, low in her throat.

Grant pulled her flush against him and again, Jemma gasped in surprise. He was so _hard_ against her. She felt all of him, and it consumed her. He consumed her. Jemma lifted her hands into his hair, grasping soft handfuls, and holding him to her. _More._ She needed more. She wanted all of him. On her. In her. Everywhere.

But suddenly, he was jerking away, leaving Jemma feeling cold and restless. Needy.

Gasping slightly, Grant said, "I hate, really, really, hate, to cut this short, Gem. But I promised my brother I'd babysit my nephew tonight."

Jemma startled, had he actually guessed her name? No, he couldn't have, "Jem?" she asked, tentatively.

He shrugged, "It's just a nickname, and it suits you," He removed his hands from her hips, and Jemma could feel his heat burning into her, "I've really got to go, but—will you meet me?"

"When?"

"Tomorrow, here. I'm meeting my brother and his wife to drop off Brett at seven. Oh, Brett's my nephew," Grant clarified, "After? About eight?" he asked. Grant wondered why he so easily shared details of his personal life with this stranger. Why he so wanted to see her again.

Jemma hesitated. Her flight was tomorrow. Could she delay it? For what? A stranger in a bar, who didn't even know her name? "Yes, I'll be here," she said before she even knew she had opened her mouth. She didn't know why she, Jemma I-plan-everything-to-meticulous-detail Simmons, was changing her plans for this man.

He smiled quickly, the first, real, uninhibited smile she had seen from him. It wasn't predatory or hungry. It was simply happy, and it filled Jemma with a bubbly sort of feeling.

She laughed, "This is mental."

"You're probably right," he replied.

"I am _always_ right," Jemma shot back, before thinking to curb her highly competitive nature. But he laughed too, a deep sound coming from his chest. He pulled her close once more, pressing his lips against hers.

"Tomorrow," was all he said, before releasing Jemma. He cupped her face with his hand, and looked at her. Grant really looked at her. Tried to memorize her features. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough. He kissed her once more, then quickly left the bar.

Jemma watched him go, touching her fingers to her lips. When had this become her life?

##

Jemma sat in the same corner of the bar where she had first kissed her mysterious stranger. It was precisely eight o'clock pm, on the dot. Jemma firmly believed in the motto "if you're not early, you're late. Thus, she had arrived twenty minutes prior to their arranged meeting time.

Upon arriving to her hotel the previous night, she had called Darcy to discuss the events of the evening. Darcy, as Darcy was prone to do, screamed and giggled and offered suggestions for Jemma's undergarments. Or current lack thereof. Jemma couldn't believe she had taken Darcy's advice to go to the bar sans knickers. Jemma Simmons didn't not wear knickers. To the same frequency she did not use double negatives, apparently. Regardless, here she was; face practically painted on, with possibly irreparable damage done to her hair, and shoes that should be illegal they hurt so badly. Her thoughts were running wild. She had committed to do this, and Jemma never quit something once she'd set her mind to it. But would it be okay? Would _she_ be okay? What if she was no good at it? It's not that she didn't know what to expect. While Jemma had never had sexual intercourse herself, Darcy had told her of her exploits, and she had taken several health courses. It's not like she lived under a rock. She was a scientist. She knew what to expect. She just didn't _know what to expect_, so to speak.

Jemma checked the time, only to discover that ten minutes had passed while she was lost in her thoughts. She decided to sit at the bar, maybe order a drink. Finally get that liquid courage she hadn't actually needed last night, but most surely needed now.

"Vodka and cranberry, please," she requested of the bartender. He readied her drink and placed it on the bar before her. As Jemma sipped, she watched the entrance to the bar. Ward had said "about eight", but how long should she wait? She was starting to have a dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was now half past eight, with no sign of him.

_How stupid can I be? _Jemma thought to herself. Of course he wasn't coming. He probably had plenty of more beautiful, sophisticated women lining up to share a drink, and certainly more, with him.

_Why would he choose me?_ Jemma hated herself for thinking that. She threw back the rest of her drink and gathered her belongings. As she stepped into the cool night air of New York City, Jemma pulled out her cellular and dialed a familiar number.

"Darcy," she gasped, suddenly feeling the abject sadness choking her. Why did it hurt so much? "He didn't come."

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a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!


	2. Creep

a/n: This chapter takes place during episode 1

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Chapter 2: Creep

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Watch it, that's the Night-Night Gun!" The squabbling could be heard from outside of the bus. "Well, it's on my stuff and it doesn't work. And there's no way we're calling it the Night-Night Gun."

_Wonderful,_ Grant thought as he walked into the lab. Agent Coulson had sent him to meet more of his "team". He had been briefed only slightly on the two bickering agents in front of him. Though he had been told that they were both so in synch to have earned the portmanteau "Fitz-Simmons", the two in front of him seemed to agree on absolutely nothing. They seemed to be speaking an entirely different language. _Fucking wonderful._

Grant took their moment of distraction to take stock of his so called "team". Both were dressed entirely too casual for Grant's taste in work attire, looking more like teenagers at the mall then specially recruited agents. The male was average height, a bit on the scrawny side, with reddish brown hair. He was currently gesticulating wildly towards his other half while spouting nonsense. The second one was female, much shorter than Grant, with shoulder length brown hair. She was rolling her eyes in such a way that made Grant want to tell her they'd get stuck like that. But that's really only something he'd tell his nephew, not a fiery little scientist. _Ahem, agent. Teammate._ It was completely inappropriate while trying to play nice with his new teammates.

He dropped his gear onto the floor with a loud _thud_, causing the bickering agents to finally give him their attention. "Fitz-Simmons?" he asked.

Jemma recognized him immediately, though it had been over a month since their unfortunate encounter in New York. Though now clad in a completely appropriate and entirely proper suit, the width of his shoulders was the same. His eyes, though no longer filled with what she had thought was passion for her, were the same deep brown she remembered. But despite the clear similarities, he looked so different. He looked positively cold and all too serious to be _her_ Ward. And yet he couldn't be anyone else, she would bet all the equipment in her lab upon that.

"Fitz," she replied, pointing to her partner. "Simmons," Fitz returned the favoir by pointing at Jemma. "I'm engineering. She's bio-chem. Agent Ward?"

_Agent_ _Ward_. If there had been any doubt before, there was none now. Jemma was, for the first time in her life, at a loss for words. She glanced at him, surreptitiously she hoped, through her hair. He most certainly did not recognize her. She didn't know whether to be pleased or furious.

"Coulson said I need my comm receiver encoded. I don't know if you've worked with that model before," he said, a little too pretentiously for Jemma's taste. _Furious,_ she decided. _Definitely furious._ "It's–" She smiled gleefully when Fitz promptly smashed Ward's comm receiver.

"–brand new," Ward finished lamely, the muscles in his jaw jumping.

Jemma didn't lift her eyes to look at him when she answered, "He'll repurpose the I.D.I.S. Chip." Fitz continued Jemma's train of thought, "Don't need the external receiver for the inner-ear comms anymore."

Just as Ward began speaking, Jemma took the opportunity to release a little bit of her anger. "So, uh, how does it-"

"Embedded Sensorineural Silicon matched to your DNA," she said pleasantly as she grabbed his jaw and jabbed the swab into his mouth. "It's very posh," she said with forced cheerfulness. "So, are you excited to be coming on our journey into mystery?" she asked.

"It's like Christmas," Ward replied stonily. No, Jemma most certainly did not like this Agent Ward. Luckily, he became distracted as Coulson arrived in Lola, his most prized possession.

##

"You mean to say that _Agent Ward_ is the guy from America?" Fitz asked, incredulously. Fitz-Simmons was once again alone in the lab, and Jemma had just finished telling Leo that Agent Ward and her mystery man from New York were one and the same.

"Why do you have to say it like _that_?" Jemma asked, miffed that Fitz had the gall to doubt her memory. "It's not as if I'm entirely disgusting to look at or something, for your information!" she snipped.

"No, no. That's not what I meant and you know it. It's just…" Fitz trailed off, his face reddening slightly.

"What is it?"

"Well… I was hoping he could become my mate, you know?"

"Excuse me?" Jemma said tightly. "You're disappointed that our new team member is the bloody fool who stood me up because you wanted to be his pal?" Her voice had risen a to a sort of shrill sound, causing Fitz to wince.

"Erm, yes?" He smiled the sort of smile that only Fitz could, and Jemma almost gave in. breathed deeply for several moments, staring at Fitz.

"I cannot believe you, Leo Fitz!" she practically shrieked as she stomped out of the lab.

##

Grant thought that the science agent, the female one, looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place her face._ Simmons, her name is Simmons?_ Maybe he'd seen her around S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters? It would bother him until he placed her, as he prided himself in never forgetting a face.

"You wanted to speak to me, Agent Ward? I don't want to hear any more reservations regarding Skye," Coulson said. Grant stood and entered Coulson's office.

"Understood, sir. Actually, I was wondering if… That is, I'd like to see Agent Simmons' file," he stumbled over the words. "And Agent Fitz's. To, you know, get to know the team," he added in attempt to cover his interest in Simmons.

Coulson looked at Ward closely. He clearly noticed Grant's interest in Simmons. "One would think to get to know your _team,_ you would speak to them rather than read a file, Agent Ward."

"With all due respect, sir, that's not really my style."

Coulson narrowed his eyes, showing Grant that he had said the wrong thing. "Jemma Simmons. S.H.I.E.L.D Agent. Title: Bio-Chemist. Level: 5. Female. Age: Twenty-four. Hair: brown. Eyes: hazel. Height: five-four. Degrees in…well, I can't even pronounce them, but they're impressive. Should I continue, Agent Ward?" Coulson recited Simmons' information from memory.

Grant could tell Coulson wasn't keen on his very innocent interest in Agent Simmons. "Jemma," he repeated quietly, "interesting name."

"I trust you're capable of playing nicely, Ward?" Coulson asked, his voice just slightly frosty. "I handpicked this team, and I would hate for any inter-team _conflicts_ to arise." His tone held a warning that Grant didn't quite understand. He only wanted to figure out why he recognized Simmons.

Strange, Grant thought. What harm could come from looking at a file? Whatever the reason, Grant wasn't one to go against an order, no matter how veiled it was, and Coulson definitely didn't want Grant to see the file. "Yes, sir." He'd have to figure it out how he knew Agent Simmons –or Jemma as he was now thinking of her– another way. _Jemma. Where have I heard that name?_

##

The air in the station was thick with tension. Dust rose from the fallen debris. Civilians watched with both fear and interest. "It matters who I am! Inside! If I'm a good person. If I'm strong!"

There seemed to be a standoff between Coulson and the target. Mike. Mike Peterson was his name. Coulson was trying to talk him down. Trying to prevent his death. But time was fast running out, and Agent Ward was prepared to pull the trigger. One life for many.

"I can be a hero," Mike whispered, tears in his eyes. He'd only wanted to find a better life for his son. Jemma had listened to what Mike told Coulson, and it mattered to her. _He_ mattered to her.

"I know, I'm counting on it." Coulson said. It seemed Coulson would be able to convince him to surrender, Jemma thought with relief.

_POP!_ Suddenly Mike was falling backwards through the dust. His body hit the hard, cold tile and lay there unmoving._ No!_ They were too late.

##

Jemma –_ Simmons!_ Grant reminded himself – ran towards the target. She knelt next to the body, checking his vitals. From the balcony, Grant could make out the worry on her face. She looked up from Mike and nodded.

The target was successfully neutralized. Fitz had, at the last possible moment, brought the unfortunately named Night-Night Gun and Grant was able to incapacitate the target without killing him.

He stood there, still holding the Night-Night Gun, and watched her. Grant saw Fitz raise his thumb to her, and a wide smile crossed her face. Her smile, that's what it was. That wide, innocent smile…

_"Call me Jewel." "Let's get out of here." "Gem?" "It's just a nickname."_

Suddenly, Grant Ward was no longer filled with the satisfaction of an accomplished mission. Because looking at her smiling like that, Grant knew. No fucking way, he thought, trying to deny the truth. _Jewel. Gem. Jemma. Mother. Fuck._

##

"Sir, we've got an 0-8-4… They want us to go in an confirm it." Jemma listened to Grant's conversation with Coulson, confirming their next task. She took a sip of her drink and grimaced at his back. Fitz noticed her face and winked at her. _Oh, bother._ She really needed something a bit stronger than Chinese take-out and beer. He waggled his eyebrows at Ward, then back to Jemma. _Great, just what I need,_ Jemma thought.

Fitz slapped Grant on the back, it seemed he was still hoping for some sort of friendship there. _Traitor,_ Jemma mouthed to Fitz. It's not that she didn't want Fitz making new friends. That was perfectly reasonable, and there were perfectly good alternatives to Agent Ward. _Skye perhaps._ She seemed quite nice, if a bit strange. Not that Jemma was one to cast stones, as she had mastered awkward quite some time ago. There was Agent May. Well, maybe not a good choice for Fitzy. But still. There were options. _Just not Ward!_

"Right then. I must be going. Prior commitment, you see."_ Stupid._ Why did she it like that? How awkward could she be?

"Prior commitment? Really." Ward said with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "Have time to socialize between crises, Agent Simmons?"

Jemma's neck flushed hotly. "As long as the mission is accomplished efficiently, then I may socialize as much as I please. _Agent Ward._ Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm sure you and Fitzy can take care of yourself for the remainder of the evening," She said sweetly, and promptly exited the room.

"Well, that was awkward, eh?" Fitz said cheerfully, slapping Grant on the back yet again, letting his hand linger.

"She's a bit prickly," Grant said, while trying to subtly remove Fitz's hand from his back.

"Jemma? Oh, she's great. Just sulking a bit since I won the name debate. Night-Night Gun it is! Wonderful name, eh?"

"Sure," Grant replied, "It's right up there with _Fitzy._" From the corner of his eye, Grant could see Fitz's puff up indignantly.

Fitz sputtered a moment before replying; "At least I don't have the brightest scientist on the bus mad at me! Well, she's a bit peeved with me, calling me Fitzy and whatnot. Not as much as you, though. Hah!" Fitz seemed proud of his comeback before realizing what he had said. His face reddened and he continued, "Never mind that!" With that, Fitz scurried out of the room, leaving Grant to ponder his thoughts. Why was Jemma angry with him?

##

In a bar not too far from there, Jemma was once again on stage. The soft music began to drift through the room while Jemma pondered the mess she found herself in.

"When you were here before, couldn't look you in the eye. You're just like an angel. Your skin makes my cry," she sang to words softly, remembering the sadness. Letting it take her once again.

Her time in New York had left her with heartache. After a tearful conversation with Darcy, Jemma had promptly booked a flight home. She'd sworn to forget New York, and everything that had happened there. Everyone she had met.

Fitz had picked her up at the airport, and the moment she saw him she burst into noisy tears. Fitz, being Fitz, had patted her awkwardly while mumbling words he thought were comforting. "You can't have gained _that much_ weight in America," he had said reassuringly.

"You float like a feather, in a beautiful world. I wish I was special. You're so fucking special."

Jemma told Fitz everything that had happened. How stupid she felt waiting for a stranger in a bar, as if she were in some sort of romantic comedy. _More like tragedy,_ she thought to herself.

"But I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here."

Fitz had done his best to comfort her. He told her all of the required platitudes and swore she would one day find somebody. And as much as she wanted to believe that, she didn't think that she could take that chance again. She envied Darcy's ability to jump headfirst into everything. Jemma just wasn't that sort of person.

"I don't care if it hurts. I want to have control. I want a perfect body. I want a perfect soul."

As she sang the words, Jemma tried stop hurting. She had thought she was over the entire situation, but then she had also thought she would never see her mysterious Ward again. Now she was to work with him. On a team with him. On an airplane with him. Together. Everyday. How could she look him in the face everyday, knowing that he didn't even remember her face? That moment had mattered so much to her, yet it was insignificant to him. _The bastard._

"I want you to notice when I'm not around. You're so fucking special. I wish I was special." As Jemma sang, a tear rolled down her cheek. She promised herself to finally get over Grant Ward, once and for all.

Damned if she would cry over a man again.

"But I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here."

As Jemma sang, she realized that it would take more than a sad song to get over the situation. To regain her self-esteem. _How pathetic_.

"She's running out the door, she's running out..."

She didn't notice the man standing to the side of the room, deliberately hidden in the shadows, watching her sing. She didn't notice him watching her step down from the stage to grab a drink. And she definitely did not notice him follow after her when she exited the bar.

* * *

a/n: Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think of it!


	3. You're So Vain

a/n: This chapter takes place during Episode 2: 0-8-4.

* * *

Chapter 3: You're So Vain

Hidden in the shadows, Agent Phil Coulson watched Jemma. After his draining conversation with May, he had sought Jemma out to apologize for how hard he had been on her. He had found her just as she was leaving the bus.

Jemma of course had brushed it off, telling Coulson that she appreciated that he treated her as he would any agent with whom he had no prior relationship. She didn't want any preferential treatment, especially not because of their relationship.

She had seemed distracted, so he'd done what any good commanding agent had done. He followed her. She'd gone to a bar, unusual for Jemma, but it was a place she had obviously been before. Coulson had entered just as she was stepping up to the microphone. He was surprised. He didn't know Jemma could sing. It made sense though.

He had recognized the band immediately. Radiohead. They were one of her mother's favorites. But as Jemma sang, Coulson knew that she wasn't thinking of her mother.

"You're so fucking special, I wish I was special." She sang the words with a bitterness he had never seen from her. He did not like it when Jemma was unhappy, and he had a suspicion as to the cause of her misery.

##

_The next day_

Grant rarely questioned his commanding officer, but he felt that the current situation warranted his objection. "Skye's not qualified to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent." Coulson had called May and Ward in to inform them of Skye's new status of consultant. It was one thing working with her on a single mission, but having her on the bus long term would be an extreme risk to their operation. Or so Grant thought.

"Agreed," Coulson started, "That's why I've invited her on as a consultant. S.H.I.E.L.D. does it all the time. Technically Stark's a consultant.

"Technically Skye's a member of the Rising Tide," Grant said, frustrated. "She hacked out RSA implementation, and she's clearly against everything S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for."

"She hacked it twice," Coulson corrected. "With a laptop. Imagine what she'll do with our resources."

"I am. That's exactly what I'm imagining during this frown," Grant said. "You brought me on for risk assessment, and that's what I'm doing." He took a deep breath, "She's a risk. She doesn't think like us."

Coulson smiled, "Exactly."

May, who had been silent until that point added, "We have two kids on this bus who aren't cleared for combat. You're adding a third." Her face and voice were expressionless, but it was clear she was vehemently against adding Skye to the team. Grant was relieved to know there was at least one normal person on the bus with him.

"At least Je–" _shit!_ "uh, Fitz-Simmons are trained SHIELD scientists." Was that noticeable? What in the hell was he thinking, slinging around her first name so casually? _Fuck!_ Had Coulson noticed?

"You said this was a select team. Assembled to work new cases, to protect people. I don't see how letting some hacker tag along–"

"I'm looking for an objection I haven't already anticipated. I'm calling this, but your frown will be on record."

Ward sighed, but knew the battle was lost, at least for the time being. His eyes met May's in silent understanding, and he continued, "We've been called in to investigate an 0-8-4. We all know what that means."

"Yes we do," Coulson said. "It means we don't know what that means. But we're about to figure it out."

##

"How could you have possibly imagined it was a good idea to tell him that I'm angry with him?" Jemma asked Fitz. He had told her of his conversation with Agent Ward last night, and Jemma had yet to forgive his little slip of the tongue.

"It was a mistake! You started it anyway by calling me that horrible nickname of yours, which Agent Ward picked up, thank you so very much. And _by the way_, you know I hate tbeing called Fitzy." Fitz said, feeling a bit guilty for blowing Jemma's secret.

"I started it? Me? I started it?" Jemma's voice was getting shrill again. "Calling you a sweet pet-name gave you leave to tell Agent Ward information that could lead him to deducing that his near sexual partner and I are one and the same?" Jemma's eyes widened and her face grew hot. While she had told Fitz _nearly_ everything about her night with Ward, she hadn't exactly revealed their entire encounter.

Fitz stuttered and his face flushed hotly. "S-sexual partner?" Now it was his voice that was growing a shrill. "You-you-you said you only kissed him!"

Jemma pursed her lips before responding, "Yes, well, I may have mislead you just a tad bit, Fitzy. Er, Fitz." She smiled at him hopefully, "Oh come now, don't be angry with me. I told you nearly everything, but did you really wish me to divulge _that _information?"

"Well, I suppose not," Fitz's face was still red, and he didn't quite look Jemma in the eyes, "It's just that, well, you know you're the closest thing to a sister that I've got. I don't want anyone taking advantage of you." He sighed. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Again," Jemma finished for him. "I know, Leo. I don't want to get hurt either. That's why it's best that we just forget this whole ordeal, and _never_ let Agent Ward know that I'm the girl from the bar."

"Oh, well, he'll probably never think it was you," Fitz said reassuringly, patting Jemma lightly on the arm.

Jemma frowned, "And what does _that_ mean?"

"Well, you don't particularly fit the stereotype, y'know? Proper Jemma Simmons, the genius biochemist is the girl from thebar? Likely story, eh?" He smiled at Jemma, and she knew he was only trying to cheer her up in his own way. She could never stay angry with Fitz for long, anyway.

"Oh come on," She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. "Let's put this whole mess behind us, Fitzy dear."

Just then, Jemma spotted Skye walking up the cargo-hold ramp. She was carrying a large box and several bags that Jemma assumed were filled with her belongings. She elbowed Fitz to alert him to the arrival of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s newest consultant.

"Agent Coulson told us the news! What a wonderful surprise," Jemma said brightly. "Isn't it, Fitz?"

"Yeah," Fitz nodded, straightening to his full height, "A surprise."

"No, it's wonderful." Jemma continued. "You must be very excited."

"First day of school," Skye said, handing a large box to Fitz who grunted under the weight of it.

"Okay, so just uh, follow me then and I'll show you around the bus," Jemma said brightly, leading them up the spiral staircase towards their living quarters.

"Officially, it's an airborne mobile command station, but _we_ call it The Bus!" Fitz told Skye. "We find it best to use shorthand when in the field," he continued, causing Jemma to grin at his obvious eagerness to impress Skye. "But everything has to be just so, you know, _because of the danger." Darling Fitzy has a crush._

"Yeah, I've been up here before," Skye said, somehow missing Fitz's attempt to catch impress her. Fitz struggled to keep up while carrying Skye's box." _Yes,_ Jemma thought,_ definitely something to keep my eye on. _It's not that she didn't like Skye, she just didn't all together trust her. And definitely not where Fitz was concerned. "But I didn't see much. You know, because of the bag. On my head."

"Yes, yes. So sorry about that," Jemma winced. Damn Ward and his heavy-handed tactics. She had to admit though; Skye hadn't exactly made herself an ally of SHIELD. Still, she was on their side now, and they would do their best to play nicely, as Phil was fond of saying. "Water?" Jemma asked, trying to diffuse the situation.

Just then, May's voice spoke through he intercom: "Wheels up in two. Lock it or lose it."

"What's that mean?" Skye asked.

"No backing out now," Jemma said eagerly. Had she come off a tad… creepy? Fitz would probably mention that later. He shot her a look that had Jemma scurrying ahead of them, "Let's find a bunk for our guest, shall we Fitz?"

Fitz smiled excitedly, taking Jemma's hint. "Yeah, there's only one left, and it's right next to mine." He hurried into the small bunk and set Skye's box down on her new bed. He stepped out of her bunk and stood next to Jemma, whispering to her, "Right next to mine!"

Jemma smiled at him, "Yes, yes. I know Fitzy. Come now, let's get back to the lab."

##

Jemma and Fitz stared at Skye in confusion. Really, what on earth could Skye be talking about with her gibberish? Then, Ward stepped quickly into the temple chamber. She glanced up at him, but tried not to let her eyes linger. _Focus on the task at hand Jemma, _she reminded herself. _Forget it ever happened._

"We've got company," Grant said. "National Police."

"What?" Jemma asked, at the exact moment Fitz said, "Why are they here?"

"They heard about the object," Grant continued, "They're probably want to protect it. This area has lots of rebel uprisings."

"Yeah," Skye interjected, "People are fighting back against the government's mining policies. It's pretty kick-ass."

Jemma looked up just as Ward swung around to face Skye. "Yeah, it's kick-ass. All the violence." He ground out.

"That's not what I'm say–" Skye started before he cut her off.

"No. It's what you're _typing_. In your van, where it's safe." He turned to look at Jemma, effectively ending his conversation with Skye. "How much longer?"

Jemma did not care for his tone and she most certainly did not care to be rushed. "What's the hurry?" She asked. No, she most certainly did not care for this _Agent_ Ward.

Next to her, Fitz practically yelped, "Are we in danger?" _Poor, poor Fitz. _Maybe she shouldn't have dragged him along into the field with her. _Too late now, though._

"Not if everyone does their job." Grant said, looking at Jemma intently before turning back to Skye, "What is yours, exactly?"

No, Jemma definitely did not like his tone. She was just about to mention how positively rude he had been acting all day, when there was a loud rumbling and shouts coming from outside the temple.

Ward immediately sprang into action. "Let's go! Rebels are coming for it, let's move!" He crouched next to the entrance to the temple with his gun drawn.

Jemma and Fitz began scrambling for their equipment, making sure everything was properly stowed for travel.

"No. No, no, no, no, no!" Fitz said, as Skye tried to place Sleepy, one of his quadcopter modules into the wrong storage container.

"It doesn't matter!" Skye said.

"It does to me!" Fitz responded emphatically, grabbing Sleepy from her hands.

"Please, let us do this," Jemma stated, perhaps a bit harsher than necessary. Still, things would run much more efficiently if Skye would just let them handle their own equipment. Jemma knew precisely the way Fitz liked the quadcopters stored.

She looked over at Ward and tried not to notice the glint in his eyes. He looked positively breath taking with the light from the small entrance shining on him. _Focus Jemma! _"We need a containment case for the 0-8-4!"

"There's no time."

"But it has a fluctuating power core! Frequencies way above 10 exaherz!" Fitz cut in worriedly.

Suddenly there was a loud explosion, causing debris to fall from the ceiling of the temple. Ward turned and strode to the 0-8-4, and Jemma knew she most definitely would not like what he was going to do.

"Sorry. Science class is over." He said, and then promptly pulled the 0-8-4 from its location in the wall.

Fitz immediately went into a frenzy trying to stop Ward as he placed the 0-8-4 in a duffle.

"Fitz!" Jemma called, "Come on!"

"Stay close," Ward said, and pulled Jemma through the opening of the temple. Jemma felt his hand on her back for a brief moment and told herself not to think about how nice it felt. Which wasn't all that hard, really, when another round of gunfire blasted through the air.

Ward moved purposely. _Gracefully_, Jemma thought. He fired off a few rounds and towards Jemma for a moment, "Stay back!"

Jemma hurried back into the cave opening, pulling Skye and Fitz along with her. Dust rose in the air, and she tried to count how many rounds Grant had gone through. Did he have enough ammo? Could a single man take down all of their attackers? Was she worried about him? She held her breath as he jumped from the steps of the temple and rolled across the ground, pulling out a Specialized Energy Shockwave Staff – SES Staff for short – and embedding it into the dirt.

Ward detonated the SES Staff, blasting several of the rebels off their feet. He stepped backwards up the stairs, calling for Jemma and her group to evacuate their hiding spot.

They ran down the steps of the temple, heading for their SUVs. Just as another round of gunshots started, Agent May pulled up looking as calm as ever. Ward hurried the team into the SUV and they pulled away from the chaos.

##

Jemma breathed in a sigh of relief. They were back in their lab, back to safety. She patted Fitz on the back and gave him a shaky smile.

"Why did we decide to accept this position, again?" He asked, breath still unsteady.

Before she could answer, Ward stomped in. "Now, what was the problem?"

"As I said before, the device has a high-frequency, fluctuating, sub-material compression–"

"Fitz," Ward cut in, his face hard, "In English."

"The 0-8-4 is fueled by Tesseract technology." Fitz said slowly, as if speaking to a very unintelligent child, "Hydra. World War II. Captain America. It's full of lethal amounts of Gamma radiation!"

"Gamma? So you're saying it's nuclear?" Ward asked, ignoring Fitz's snippy tone.

"No." Fitz said. "It's worse."

Jemma took that moment to look at her companions and noticed Skye's look of terror.

"Not to worry, the device is stable," She said as she carefully removed the 0-8-4 from the duffle bag, "Not that it couldn't explode at any moment. Especially if hit with machine-gun fire. But things like this happen from time to time when in the field. At first it's very unpleasant–"

"And you regret your decision to leave the lab at all!" Fitz said, cutting her off.

"Well maybe you could have said from the start how dangerous this thing is," Ward said, setting Fitz off again.

"Are you mental?" Fitz said angrily, "I explained in great deal exactly what I meant using the Queen's bloody English!"

"I use _normal_ English," Ward ground out angrily as he followed Fitz around to his workstation. "Words like 'duck' and 'run' and 'might blow us to pieces'."

Fitz scoffed at Ward's comment. "Oh. Oh! Well, _congratulations,_ Agent Ward!" He said, his voiced laced with sarcasm and anger. "You managed to string three words together!"

Jemma hadn't seen Fitzy this worked up in quite some time. She had to admit; it was a bit entertaining to see him put Ward in his place. Though she feared for their budding friendship. _Not_.

"I told you." He looked at Jemma, and she nodded enthusiastically. "Didn't I tell him? It's got a fluctuating power core and frequencies above 10 exaherz. The sub-material compression and flexing–"

Ward cut him off, "I don't understand anything you're saying!"

Before they could continue, Agent Coulson stepped into the lab. "Do we have a problem in here?"

"No, sir," Ward said, "Just working on our communication. Not everyone was prepared for a firefight."

Jemma rolled her eyes at Ward, which only Fitz noticed. The nerve of him to start throwing around blame! She couldn't believe she had found him intriguing in the slightest!

"I'd say we did all right," Coulson responded. "Anything else?" Fitz and Ward were silent, but to Jemma's surprise, Skye raised her hand.

"Uh, yeah," She began, "I have a small question, because I've been feeling like the tagalong hayseed rookie, but now I get the sense that Ward doesn't know which one's Simmons and which one's Fitz."

"Well _obviously_ he knows –" Fitz began, but stopped short when he saw Jemma shaking her head emphatically.

Skye wasn't to be derailed though. "They've seen even less gunfire than me! Is this your first mission together?"

"No, of course not. It's our second," Jemma said, trying to diffuse the tension in the lab.

"I was your first? That's sweet," Skye said laughing humorlessly.

"You're amused?" Ward asked angrily.

"I am terrified! I am in way over my head but I have been on this team just as long as any of you!" Skye said, gesturing to Jemma, Ward, and Fitz with her hands. "I might as well be team captain," she added.

Jemma scoffed at that, and her eyes met Ward's for and for a brief moment they were united against a common enemy. Fitz laughed incredulously. It was silent before Skye continued, "Well, I was joking but maybe it's not a bad idea. And _these guys," _again she gestured to the trio, "They don't like each other much!"

Ward finally spoke, "This isn't about that." He turned to Coulson, "I am a Specialist. Today I could have eliminated the enemy threat myself, if I was working alone."

"Oh, please," Jemma said under her breath, but the look Ward shot her way, told her that he had heard. _Damned fool!_

He continued as if he hadn't hear her, "Instead, I had non-combat-ready agents –" _WHAT?_

"Whoa, whoa! Wait. You work alone?" Fitz started angrily.

"So typical, Agent Ward. Who do you think designs your equipment?" Jemma asked, tired of playing nicely. "Try going into the field with just your_ bare bum_!" Upon realized her choice of words, Jemma blushed. Hopefully he would assume it was from her anger, and not embarrassment.

"People like us do it," Fitz finished for her.

Coulson sighed, "We still need to iron out the kinks. But Ward, you can speak six languages. Simmons, you have two PhDs in fields I can't pronounce. And Fitz, you _are_ a rocket scientist. So work it out." With that, he left the lab, Ward and Skye following after him, still bickering.

##

Jemma looked around the devastation of the bus. Everything was in shambles, and she ached everywhere, but at least they were all alive! Feeling a tad overwhelmed, Jemma gave herself have a moment of unprofessionalism and slid to the floor. She crossed her legs and leaned against the wall. Would it be rude to fall asleep while they were all still talking?

"The 0-8-4 is cooling, and stable, but we should call HQ and get it to the Slingshot as soon as possible," she heard Fitz tell Coulson. She watched as he stepped closer to Skye, "You doing all right?"

Jemma huffed in annoyance, and possibly a bit of fatigue, but mostly annoyance. You'd think they'd been friends for years!

"Jealous?" Ward asked, startling Jemma as he sat down next to her. She hadn't even seen him come up next to her, and there was no escape route in sight. She glanced around nervously.

Had she said that out loud? Hm. She suddenly felt over heated and crowded, which definitely had more to do with his proximity and less to do with blowing a hole into the side of the bus. Did he have to sit so close? She looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"Are you jealous of Skye and, what did you call him, Fitzy?" He repeated, still looking ahead, rather than at her. The nerve of him! First, he didn't even look winded while the rest of them could barely breathe, and now he had the audacity to ask her such a personal question! And to use her pet-name!

She didn't answer him. "Agent Ward, sitting on the floor with a lowly scientist. Who would have thought?" She said, scoffing at him.

He sighed. "Look, it wasn't personal. I'm used to working alone. That's what I trained for… It's just what I do; it's who I am. The entire solution." He paused before adding, "But seriously, you know I can tell you apart, right?"

Jemma looked at him, and their eyes met. The air between them was thick, and for a single stupid moment, she thought about leaning in. Kissing him. Tasting him._ Just once more…_

"Obviously_,_" Fitz said from above them, and Jemma was once again startled by the unseen arrival of a teammate. She shoved herself up from the floor, and away from Ward.

"Fitz! Enough!" She looked down at Ward, "Yes, yes we know. Now, if you'll excuse us, we've got cleaning up to do." With that, she grabbed Fitz by the hand and pulled him away.

##

"All right, I'll do it," Grant said the May. He didn't particularly want Skye on the team, even after her help solving their latest fiasco, but if he was going to be stuck with her, he'd rather her be trained. At least then she'd be less of a liability.

"Just to clarify, you were, uh, talking about me, right?" He asked May. She didn't intimidate him; it was just that she was such a renowned Agent, and the only other _normal_ one on the plane. It's not like he was like Coulson going on about Captain America. May gave him one of her extremely rare smiles. _Stay cool,Grant, _he told himself.

He nodded and returned to repacking his equipment, thankful that the clusterfuck that was his day was finally at an end.

He heard Fitz and Simmons, well he heard _her,_ coming down into the cargo-hold, and stood to get a better look. Not specifically at Simmons of course. He just liked to be aware of his surroundings. _Keep telling yourself that, buddy_, he thought.

"It was new for all of us!" Jemma laughed happily. She walked with a bounce in her step that made Grant want to smile. She was so damn happy all the time. Except when she was with him. He frowned, recalling Fitz telling him that she was angry with him. Definitely something to think about.

"They're happy," May commented. Her tone was low and seemingly emotionless, but Grant saw her shake her head at Fitz-Simmons with a smile. It seemed Jemma's euphoria was contagious.

_Stop calling her that_, he reminded himself. It wouldn't do any good to get overly personal –as if he wasn't already– with a teammate. And it definitely wouldn't be good to keep slipping up and calling her that in front of others. Especially Coulson. He seemed a little over protective of Jemma for Grant's liking.

Fitz and Simmons sat down on the cargo-bay ramp with an ice chest. "Hey come on, you guys don't want to miss this," Fitz called out.

Grant followed the duo and sat next to Fitz, grabbing a beer. He listened as Fitz and Simmons chattered on excitedly, and incomprehensibly. Was he doomed to never understand a word they said?

"Guys, English." He pleaded. They all watched eagerly as the Slingshot launched the 0-8-4 into the sky. Grant tried not to look over at Jemma, her face lit up by the blast. He tried, but failed miserably. Her smile was wide, lips turned up at the corners, and her eyes twinkled –_twinkled?_

Grant groaned internally. _Fuck. Get ahold of yourself man. _He was definitely in trouble.

* * *

a/n: Thanks for reading! Also, as a reminder, my story is following on the show, with some of the dialogue pulled directly from the episodes. I have an outline, but I'm fitting my plot points into the show's plot, and expanding on that. I may deviate at some point, but I haven't decided when. Next chapter does not take place during an episode though, it picks up after episode 4. Happy shipping!


	4. Dirty Little Secret

a/n: This chapter takes place after the events in episodes 3 (The Asset) and 4 (Eye Spy), and before episode 5. It's a little short, sorry, but the next chapter will be longer. Promise!

* * *

Chapter 4: Dirty Little Secret

Jemma was preparing for bed when Skye popped her head into Jemma's room. "Knock knock! I heard the eye removal surgery was a blast."

"Oh, hello there Skye."

"Hey so… can I come in?" While Jemma did enjoy solitude in the evenings, Skye's face was hopeful, and she didn't want to disappoint her.

"Yes, yes of course." She waved Skye in and patted her bunk, "Do sit down. What can I help you with?"

Skye sat tentatively on the edge of Jemma's bed and looked around the room. She ran her fingers over the quilt. "It's nice in here. You've really made it your own."

"I've learned it's best to bring pieces of home with me when I'm away for extended periods of time. My mum made this quilt for me for my tenth birthday, and well, I couldn't resist bringing it with me when I accepted this assignment. I suppose you could say I'm a bit sentimental." She smiled at Skye reassuringly. The other woman seemed uncommonly timid.

"That's really, um, that's nice." She took a deep breath before continuing. "I've never had a mother."

Jemma didn't know what to say to that. While she liked to think that she was a fairly perceptive person, she had to admit that she had no idea how to handle this sort of situation. Where was Darcy when you needed her? She'd know what to do. Knowing Darcy, it would probably be something to do with alcohol.

"You poor, poor thing." That sounded comforting. She reached over at patted Skye's back soothingly. _This isn't so hard,_ Jemma thought.

"Um, what are you doing?" Skye asked, coughing loudly.

"Consoling you?" Jemma said questioningly. Perhaps she hadn't been as soothing as she had thought.

"Yeeeah, no. That was practically the Heimlich maneuver. No offense." Skye said with a laugh, and she gave Jemma a watery smile.

"Okay, so I'm rubbish at this. I don't know how to _comfort_ people" Jemma said, using her fingers to make air quotations around the word comfort.

"Uh. Okay, _comfort_?" Skye asked, mimicking Jemma's gesture. "Really, air quotes? You know it's a real thing, right? You're almost as bad Ward. Jeez, where'd you learn to socialize, a pack of hyenas?"

_Almost as bad as Ward!?_ _The nerve!_ "I am _nothing_ like Agent Ward, thank you so very much. And I don't often have time to socialize, for your information."

"Okay, okay, don't get angry. But c'mon, that's totally something he would say!" She raised her hands in a gesture of peace. "He's my supervising officer. I would know. And you know it, too." Skye smiled and Jemma and raised a brow. "Admit it, you _know_ it's true."

"Oh for heaven's sake! Yes, I admit, I do not have the best social skills. Still, I am nowhere near Agent Ward's level of social ineptitude."

Skye laughed but she didn't contradict Jemma. "So, why do you dislike Ward so much?" she asked quietly.

Jemma was silent for a long while. Should she tell Skye what had happened? They didn't really know each other that well, but they got on well enough. "It's not that I dislike him, per se, it's more that… well, he just happens to be my least favorite person on the bus." Did that sound too obvious? "But he's a perfectly nice man." Jemma added hastily.

"Mmm, nope," Skye said matter-of-factly. "I'm not buying that. There's something else."

"Something else?" Jemma squeaked. Had she really been so obvious? "I'm sure I do not know what you mean," she scoffed.

"Uh huh, _sure_ you don't." Sky rose from the bed headed for the door. She didn't quite meet Jemma's eyes as she said, "I'll let you hit the sack now, but I just wanted to say, you know, I think we could be friends."

"Yes," Jemma said after watching Skye thoughtfully. "I think I'd quite like that."

##

_A few hours later – 5:00 AM_

Grant ward was not a happy man. Agent May had woken the entire team at 5 AM for what she called a "mandatory meeting". Having woken an hour previous to start his daily workout, Grant didn't suffer the same fate as his team did of being jolted and rushed out of their rooms, but he wasn't pleased to have his routine interrupted. He very much appreciated maintaining a strict schedule, and this was sure to throw a wrench into his entire day. To top that off, May had promptly left them to their own devices with a strict "Stay here."

No, Grant was not pleased, but the sight of Jemma Simmons in some sort of a flannel one-peace pajama contraption sure went along way to soothe his mood. Who slept in a jumpsuit, and why, for the love of god did he find her ridiculous sexy? She obviously had just woken up, her hair was disastrous mess of tangles, and she was literally covered neck to fucking toe in _flannel._ It should have been his worst nightmare.

She looked an amalgamation of everything that was not his type. Quite honestly, she didn't look like anyone's type. Yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. What the fuck was happening to him? "Flannel. Really?" he muttered under his breath, yet still earning himself a pointed stare from May. _Fuck, when did she come back? _Why didn't he notice?

"What're we doing up so bloody early in the morning?" Fitz grumbled at nobody in particular. Skye mumbled something unintelligibly in response while Jemma just shrugged and tried to stifle a yawn. Either she wasn't the least bit embarrassed by her attire, or she had forgotten what she was wearing. Grant was willing to be on the latter scenario.

_Maybe Fitz's already seen her in her in her current state of undress, _his traitorous mind were obscenely close. Maybe they were more than partners. Jemma had dodged his question when he asked if she was jealous of the attention Fitz gave Skye.

_Stop thinking about her,_ he told himself. What had happened to his self-control? Right. Jemma fucking Simmons happened. It was just his fucking luck that the girl he couldn't get out of his mind from the moment they met just so happened to be stationed on a damned plane with him. _Three bunks down. Fuck._

"I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here," Coulson started, and once again Grant realized he hadn't noticed when Coulson had arrived. "I thought it was time for a little team bonding, and training."

There was a round of groaning from Jemma, Skye, and Fitz. Grant didn't say anything, but he knew he wasn't going to like where Coulson was heading.

"I'd say we did all right on our last missions, but Agent May and I agree that the team could use a little fine tuning. We've devised a two part plan that I believe will go a long way in helping us to become a better team." He motioned to Agent May, who stepped forward.

"The first part is series of team building exercises. You will work in pairs," she looked at Fitz-Simmons, who appeared enthusiastic for the first time that morning, "–no you do _not _get to choose your partner –And as a group. I will be running the mission."

"Uh, exercise. She means exercise," Coulson interjected. "The second phase is a _mandatory_ team bonding experience. You may decide amongst yourselves the activity, but all four of you must participate. Any questions?"

Fitz-Simmons and Skye immediately started talking all at once, throwing out ideas, ensuring that nobody could be heard efficiently. Grant just wanted to go back to bed.

"Ooh, can we go bowling?" "Or maybe Mini golf!" "We can have a Galaga championship!"

"Let's go paintballing!" Jemma shouted. Now _that's_ an idea Grant could get behind.

"Enough." May said quietly. The ruckus stopped instantly. "We'll decide on that after phase one. We will be landing in about 45 minutes, and then training begins. I expect everyone will be in proper attire," she said as she looked at the ragtag team in front of her. She left for the cockpit, leaving them to their own devices once more.

"I think she was talking about you, Simmons," Ward said, looking at Jemma. Their eyes met, and Grant could see the confusion. He looked pointedly at her pajamas, eliciting a high-pitched yelp from her.

"Oh!" She immediately pulled Skye in front of her, situating herself to best hide her ridiculous pajamas. Holy hell, but she was adorable. _Adorable? Really? Straighten up, Ward!_

"I happen to like your choice of attire," Coulson said, smiling at Jemma. She seemed to brush of her embarrassment some and laughed at Coulson, the two sharing a knowing look, before Coulson left the room.

"That's because it's Captain America on them, eh Coulson?" Fitz called while following after Coulson.

"Captain America pajamas, really? I didn't peg you as a fan girl. This one," he motioned to Skye, "sure. But not you." _Shit_!_ Open mouth insert foot._ Why did he say that?

"One time! It was one time!" Skye said, while Jemma said nothing. In fact, she didn't even meet his eyes. Rather, she looked over his shoulder.

"Yes, well, they were a gift," Jemma said icily. "Skye, shall we prepare for our training, then? Yes, excellent. Let's go." She took Skye by the wrist and pulled her from the room, leaving Grant alone. If she wasn't mad at him before, she definitely was now. _Wonderful._

##

"What was that all about?" Skye asked, motioning with her head as Jemma led them to her bunk.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about," Jemma said.

"Yeah, seems like you've been saying that a lot lately. Come on, what's going on with you and Ward?" before Jemma could respond, she continued, "And _don't _say 'nothing'. C'mon, you guys totally did it, right?"

Jemma sighed in frustration. How had her life become such a mess? She liked things in their place. Organized. Efficient. Simple. But Grant Ward had made that impossible. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you, but you've got to keep mum about it. I realize that might be difficult considering your _history_, but I'd prefer this stayed between the two of us. Well, Fitz knows, so it's really the three of us, but never you mind that."

"Funny, the whole Rising Tide thing. Haha." She clearly didn't see the humor in Jemma's joke. "Yes, I can keep a secret. After all, what are friends for if not to keep your secrets and help hide the bodies."

Jemma looked at Skye oddly. "Bodies? I haven't maimed anyone recently."

"Recently? Never mind. Just spill Simmons."

"Oh, yes, all right, I'll tell you. But the abbreviated version." She waited for Skye to nod in agreement before continuing. "I was on holiday in America, my last before joining this team. My friend, well, she convinced me that it would be a good idea to loosen up a bit. I'm a fairly… vanilla, you see. Well, I decided the best way to spend my last night in New York would be to go to a bar, for a night on the town, so to speak." She took a deep breath and continued quickly, "And then I met Agent Ward and we may have kissed and that was it."

"What!" Skye's practically screeched. "You kissed Ward? Agent Ward? Mr. Secret Agent Man?"

"Is that so difficult to believe?" Jemma asked testily. Honestly, it's not as if she was completely awful to look at.

"No, no, that's not what I meant!" Skye said quickly. "Just… Agent Ward. No offense, but yuck. I mean, he's got a rockin' body –I would know– but he's kind of a robot. Like, I think he is actually a robot. Does SHIELD have human robot agents?"

"You-you-you…" Jemma sputtered. "Have you and Agent Ward…?"

"Uh, gross. No, but I totally spied on him the X-Ray glasses. Lemme tell you, guy's got great abs for a robot." She laughed. "Kidding. I know he's not a robot…probably."

"He is _not _a robot, and that is entirely improper use of SHIELD equipment."

Skye only shrugged off Jemma's reprimand. "I guess _you_ would know if he really was a robot… and that brings us to the important part. How was it?" She continued before Jemma could say a word. "Too much tongue? Oooh, not enough?"

Just then, Agent May's voice came over the intercom, saving Jemma from having to answer Skye's absurd questions. "Everybody in the cargo-hold in five minutes. Don't be late."

"Would you look at that! Out of time. Pity." Jemma rose from her and brushed imaginary lint from her shoulder.

"Yeah, don't think I'm letting you off that easy. We'll finish this later. With details. In Hi-Def. Now let's go kick some ass, or you know, sing around a campfire. I'm not really sure what to expect from Coulson at this point."

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a/n: Please do let me know what you think, good or bad. Happy shipping!


	5. Here's Hope

a/n: I'm so sorry I've taken a million years to update. I could give you all of my excuses, but essentially real life got complicated and hectic. I've had even less fucks than usual to give lately. As a result, my writing suffered, and I lost a lot of inspiration. I rewrote this chapter a few times. I wrote this chapter and chapter 6 before I decided to change the way the story is going to play out, so I had to scrap most of what I wrote. Then I decided to tweak some things to work better with later episodes. I'm so sorry I took 700 years though, I'll try not to go so long between updates in the future. Takes place before episode 5. Also, as an FYI, I tend to post on A03 first, and then come back later and update here. Same username.

Chapter 5: Here's Hope

Jemma could not believe her incredibly wretched luck. First she had been pulled from bed ridiculously early, and then she'd accidentally paraded around the team in her Captain America onesie, and now _this_. Her day could absolutely not get any worse.

She felt rather than saw Skye sidle up next to her. "So, you and Ward, huh. That's lucky." She winked at Jemma conspiratorially.

"Luck! Luck! This is some sort of punishment!" She whispered back, voiced laced with frustration.

May had briefly explained the little "mission" that was essentially a large game of capture the flag, and broken them into teams. Unfortunately, Jemma was paired with Ward, the absolute worst possible option.

"I'm going to be stuck with him, alone, for _hours_. Hours pretending not to recognize him. Hours pretending that we haven't met before, never mind the kissing."

"Yeah, that is a _horrible_ plan. You should just kiss him again. That'll put you both in a better mood."

Jemma rolled her eyes at Skye, and then glanced at Ward. As he spoke to May and Coulson, he shook his head and motioned towards the junior agents. He obviously wasn't thrilled about the team building assignment, but Coulson and May weren't letting anyone off the hook.

They were doomed to spend the day with only the company of each other, trudging around the forest and manufactured obstacle course that was their playing field.

_Fantastic._

##

"You want _me_ to climb into _that?_"Jemma asked, gesturing towards the sludgy water in front of them. After about twenty minutes of following Ward through the forest, they had found themselves at a large pool of thick, muddy water. There was a large post with a thick rope reaching across the water to an identical post on the opposite embankment. "You can't be serious."

Grant sighed. He really did prefer to work alone. "It's only about a hundred or so yards."

"Only? Only? Only."

"Come on, it won't be that hard, and it's the only way across. And we need another flag."

They had acquired their first flag almost immediately after beginning the game. Jemma completed the simple mind puzzle in a matter of moments, while Fitz and Skye were still working on theirs. Jemma and Grant had set off into the forest to find their next task, both thoroughly pleased to be in the lead.

"You know, Skye and Fitz must have finished their puzzle by now. We won't be in lead for long."

Jemma most certainly did not want to lose to Skye and Fitz, even if that meant working with _him. _ "Coulson specifically stated that this is not a competition."

"Do you really believe this isn't a competition?" Grant just knew _that_ would tip the scales in his favor. In the short time he had known Jemma he had learned that she was borderline aggressive in her competitiveness.

"What do we need to do?"

Grant couldn't help the little burst of pride that bloomed in his chest. He knew he shouldn't feel so damn smug about knowing how Jemma would react, but he did. She was like that damn puzzle. It still irked that he'd needed her help to solve it. He fucking hated needing help. Still, it gave him a deep satisfaction to be able to put together the puzzle that was Jemma Simmons.

He smiled at her and stepped closer. She wouldn't enjoy this, he knew. "First, we gotta get a little wet." Grant gave Jemma a solid push on her back. She let out a loud shriek as she stumbled and fell on her ass with a sloppy _plop._ She slid down the muddy slope and into the shallow water, screaming as she went.

Jemma pulled herself out of the water and onto the bank, her hair slopping into her face. "What the hell?" The words came out of her mouth in a much lower pitch than Grant had ever heard from Jemma. No, she definitely did not enjoy that, but Grant had. Especially the way she'd waved her arms about and tried to halt her slide down the embankment.

Without answering her, Grant sloshed into the water, passing Jemma as he went. They'd wasted enough time already, and he really didn't want to lose. He held onto the thick rope to steady himself as he took a few steps. "Let's move," he said, without looking back.

"You… you…" Jemma couldn't believe he had the audacity to act as if he hadn't just shoved her into a horrendous puddle of muck. Then to just presume she would want to carry on as if it hadn't happened. She grabbed the rope and followed behind him, at a much slower pace. "Agent Ward!"

He looked over his shoulder at Jemma as she sputtered at him, but he wasn't really paying attention to what she said because holy hell, she was cute when she was covered in mud. _Get a grip, man, _he told , it had been longer than he cared to admit since he'd gotten laid, but seriously, she was covered head to fucking toe in sludge. He shouldn't find her adorable. The word adorable shouldn't even be in his vocabulary.

"Look," he said, turning to address her, "it's easier to just jump right in. We need to get moving."

"You really are quite unlikeable, you know that?" She snapped at him, sloshing forward to poke him in the chest. Jemma couldn't believe she had ever found him attractive in the least. She poked him once more in the chest, for good measure. Before she pulled her finger away, Grant's hand wrapped around her own.

"You sure you really believe that?" He asked, voice hard.

_Shit. _"What on earth does that mean?" Had her voice squeaked?

Grant narrowed his eyes speculatively. Did she really not know what he was talking about? That seemed unlikely. Sure, their encounter was brief, but he hadn't been able to _stop_ thinking about it. How could she not remember _him,_ Agent Grant Ward, fucking Secret Agent Super Spy. Not that he called himself that. Often.

"Nothing. Forget it. Let's go." He released her hand, suddenly not wanting to be quite so close to her, and turned away from Jemma.

Jemma felt the loss of his heat immediately. The weight of her wet clothes and hair had started to affect her, and it suddenly seemed as if she were freezing. When had the water gotten so deep? She took a step forward jerkily, and reached for the rope. Instead, her hand only grazed it and her momentum pulled her down into the thick water once again. She gasped, it was so _cold_, and muddy water oozed into her mouth. Jemma choked on the water and scrambled for the rope to pull herself out.

Grant heard Jemma hit the water, and turned back towards her. When she didn't immediately rise out of the water, he uncomfortably worried. _Fuck! _While the water wasn't worryingly high on him, he hadn't realized just how deep it had gotten. Jemma was significantly shorter than him, after all.

He bent down into the freezing water to grab Jemma. He hooked his forearms under Jemma's arms and pulled her out of the water as she thrashed against him. "Stop. Calm down. Stop."

Jemma coughed on the water she had swallowed and tried to spit out the flecks of mud still coating her tongue. Her entire body felt heavy and weak. She felt Ward's hands slide around to her back and pull her against his chest. Her teeth chattered as she spoke. "Thank… y-y-you."

"Dammit, you're like fucking ice. I need to get you out of these clothes, ASAP." He hoisted Jemma up his chest, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips and clutched his shoulders.

"You m-m-missed that boat. No s-s-second chances." Jemma said without really processing her words.

Grant pulled back from her, eyebrows raised. "You _do_ remember." He fucking knew it!

It was a statement rather than a question. Jemma played back the words in her mind; her brain seemed to be processing at a much slower rate than normal. Had she really said that? "I have e-exceptional powers of recollection." She shivered under his fixed stare, and possibly from the cold. Finally, she gave in and laid her cheek on his shoulder. She was so tired. "I recognized you the moment we met on the b-b-bus."

Grant didn't really know what to think. He hadn't planned more than discerning if she did in fact remember him. Well, he hadn't exactly had a plan at all. More of a general aim that had worked out much quicker than he'd figured. She really _was_ his Gem. He'd recognized her, but it didn't seem true until she'd confirmed it.

"Let's get you out of this water and warmed up. Don't let go." He adjusted Jemma on his hips, keeping one arm wrapped around her back. Her arms tightened around his neck and she pressed herself more firmly against him. _Fuck_. He really did prefer working alone.

##

Jemma had never considered herself to be violent in any sense of the word. In fact, she had always been fairly peaceful and not in any way aggressive. Sure, she sometimes tended to get just a wee bit competitive but she had never deliberately hurt anyone. She had never even thought about hurting another person. Until now.

She was covered in a disgusting sludge, her hair was matted against her skull, her sodden clothing chafed at her skin, and she was contemplating every way possible to murder Grant Ward. This whole rotten day was his fault. The past hour had made it abundantly clear how severely lacking she was in the physical sense; she would need to use other means.

Grant could tell that Jemma was angry, but he didn't really care. Or, to be honest, all he cared about was way her face scrunched up and her brows furrowed every time she looked at him. Not that it happened very often. It seemed that she had been actively trying _not_ to look at him, actually.

It had been about two hours, give or take, since their little competition had started. They'd taken much longer to cross the sludge pond than he'd initially anticipated. It couldn't exactly be helped, since he'd had to carry Jemma over half of the way. Still, he was sure that he'd have completed the mission within an hour if he'd been working alone.

Jemma had stayed silent after inadvertently admitting to recognizing Grant, and he'd been reluctant to say much of anything either. The silence had grated on Jemma's nerves considerably. She couldn't believe she'd failed to even cross a simple pond without needing his assistance. Worse, to be carried across like a child after she'd so carelessly let it slip that she remembered their unfortunate encounter. It was humiliating, to say the least. To top off the already horrible experience, he'd had the gall to remain silent and not offer the tiniest shred of remorse for standing her up.

He'd carried her in silence and then set her down, albeit gently, without so much as a peep of apology.

"You need to get out of those clothes." At her confused look he explained, "Warm up, so we can keep going." He rummaged in his rucksack and pulled out a pair of khaki cargo pants and a black t-shirt, and tossed them to her. She looked at the articles of clothing, suspicious.

"These are the correct size."

Grant ran his hand over the back of his neck sheepishly. "I figured you'd need an extra set, uh, just in case. I guessed your size."

She frowned at him, but said nothing.

"I have exceptional powers of recollection." His lips curved upwards in a small crooked smile.

Still, Jemma said nothing. They stared at each other a moment before she turned away. She took her new clothing with her as she stepped deeper into the dense forest to change with some semblance of privacy.

Grant watched Jemma walk away, confused. She was definitely pissed about something, but he had no idea what it could be. And honestly, she should be thanking him for saving her ass and carrying her through that fucking swamp. Okay, maybe he shouldn't have pushed her into it in the first place, but it's not like he could have known she'd submerge herself again and he'd have to carry her. Not that he exactly hated it, but still. That one was definitely not his fault.

A shrill scream interrupted his thoughts and he immediately ran in the direction Jemma had gone. He found her, wearing only her clean shirt, sitting on the ground. When she saw him she let out another shriek and scrambled to cover herself.

"What are you _doing _here?" She asked, her voice remarkably shrill. She couldn't bring herself to care though. Today was certainly not the greatest day of her career.

"I uh, heard a scream." Grant had to give himself props for his ability not to stare at her legs, because holy hell they were fucking beautiful.

Jemma seemed to deflate right before Grant's eyes. "I tripped," she said in a quiet voice.

"You what?"

"I tripped! I can't even put on my own trousers tripping over myself. And now you've seen me in my… my…" She trailed off, her face flushed with embarrassment and anger.

"Knickers?" Grant said, a poor attempt to lighten the mood. Jemma's face scrunched up again and Grant couldn't stop himself from laughing. She was just too fucking cute with her brows furrowed. The look on her face told him he definitely should not have laughed.

"Stop talking. Just… stop." Her voice was low and angry again. _Fuck_.

"Here, let me help. I'll close my eyes." Grant held out his hand to Jemma, eyes closed as promised. He wasn't really sure how to ease the tension between them, but he figured not ogling her was a good start.

Jemma tentatively took Ward's hand, watching him closely. It was just her luck. If she had been paired with Leo, none of this would have happened. Yes, they'd probably have bumbled through the more physical tasks, but she certainly wouldn't have ended up half naked and freezing cold. Still, she had no doubt that Agent Ward would keep his promise not to look. She wasn't worried about that.

She was worried about the warmth that spread through her body when her fingers closed over his. She was worried about the tingling sensation low in her abdomen and the brief mental image of skin on skin, lips on lips. Jemma was worried about not being able to keep the promise she'd made to herself to herself. It would only lead to the same bitter heartache she'd felt after her last taste of Grant Ward.

Still, she couldn't the feeling of hope she'd felt the moment she'd laid her head on his chest that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different for her. She couldn't help the want blooming in her heart, or the ache settling deep inside her. When had her self-control become so weak?

* * *

Thank you so so much for your patience, and for reading. Please let me know what you think, good and bad. :)


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